


Of Blood and Honour

by DeliriumGothique



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeliriumGothique/pseuds/DeliriumGothique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of Blood and Honour: a high-impact intimate character driven drama with a near all-turian cast. From the officers of C-sec to the tycoons of turian industry, two worlds collide in scandal, intrigue and romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Episode One

Aurelia opened her eyes to a familiar scene. The body of her husband was not beside her, yet again. She could hear him in the self-made office of their apartment only a room over, the hollow sound of shuffling files and fingers gliding over the keys of his holo-pad. It was then she felt a sudden pain in her abdomen, a feeling she was all too familiar with.  
  
“No…”she whispered as she made her way to the bathroom quickly.  
  
Her marriage with Syro was young, barely into its second season, but the distance had not eased; it seemed only to have gotten worse, obvious as he made no call out to her to see if she was alright or even acknowledge her presence. Once in the bathroom she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her thighs slick with deep ultramarine blood. It had happened again.  
  
There would be no child this time. She had hoped, but it felt as it had been much to ask of the spirits to bless them with a child and ease the distance between husband and wife. There were no sighs of discontentment; she knew better. So she decided to wash such thoughts away and cleanse her conscious through the blessings of a hot shower.  
  
It was business as usual.  A shower, donning her c-sec uniform, unflattering in flush against her golden toned plates and hide and just as unattractive to her figure. C-sec was not her first choice as a career, ruling out justice was not her dream, no, and that was her brothers. However, she was a turian from a modest but respectable family. She knew her place, and this was it.  
  
She ignored the nagging idea of letting slip a sigh, ignoring the fact she wished for something better. No self respecting turian would never ask for more than they ever had.  
‘This is how arranged marriages are; mother said so,’ she reminded herself as she drunk deeply the warm creamy liquid that assisted in helping her wake up. She could not experience a morning without it.  
  
Her family had arranged the marriage. It was how things were done. Young turians did not take the time to seek, find and secure love. That was left to the asari. Turian young had better things to do, like serve the turian hierarchy and the galactic community.  
  
Syro was not a terrible looking male, or cruel. He simply  treated her more like an occupier of his apartment rather than his wife. It made completing his natural duty to give her children near impossible. She had half-begged him to go to the doctor with her, to test their fertility. He had refused, saying it undermined him as a husband and a male. So she went without him.  
The asari doctor had been kind, comforting. She eased worries that she was barren as failure always fell down to the fault of the wife. The doctor confirmed what she had always known; she was fertile as any other.  
  
A sigh did escape her then. Children – there was nothing she wanted more. To mother a petite heart made partly from her flesh, shape and mould them to continue on her seemingly insignificant legacy. C-sec was just time filler until the daily cries filled their small apartment. It would happen, one day, eventually.  
  
She raised herself to her feet, just one more day to get through; she had Leiada to carry her partway at least. That spread her mandibles into a small smile as she thought of her asari friend and her passionate sense of dealing with things.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Here you are, two tickets.”  
Aurelia was handed two thin-strip tickets by her asari companion. She eyed the Omni-tool orange pieces carefully.  
  
“Remind me why we are going again?” she enquired to Leiada.  
  
“Because c-sec officers are required to, by contract, once a rotation, to dress up in bells and ribbons and suck up to the rich. So put on your best frock.”  
  
Leiada has such a state of wording things. She was military through and through, a maiden on the edge of her matron years, and instead of stripping in bars or joining some mercenary gang, she was here. It made Aurelia smile a little as she lay down the two strips on the dash.  
She did not know why she asked for two; Syro had refused even humouring the idea originally. She had sworn she would never ask him again after that. Yet here she was with two tickets staring at her from the dash.  
  
Perhaps it was the way she was staring at the two tickets intensely that caught the huntress’ attention. “Are you alright, Aurelia?” she asked cautiously.  “Is Syro still refusing to come?”  
  
“Something like that. He won't even humour the idea of coming along. He says he has more important things to do than rub elbows with high society.” A sigh escaped her, then, “It would be nice, you know? A distraction from everything, to see how the other half lives.”  
  
“Exactly!” Leiada announced loudly. “And if he does not want to go, then you should go as my date, get dressed up and have some fun.” Leiada frowned as she noticed that Aurelia didn’t perk up. “But something else is wrong isn’t it?” she whispered softly.  
  
Holding her breath, Aurelia couldn’t bring herself to say it. Not until her companion put a hand on her arm. Despite being under several layers of armour and under shell, she could feel the warmth. It broke her.  
  
“It happened again…” she whispered back and she could see the pity in the asari’s blue eyes.  
  
“Oh, love. Don’t worry. It just takes some couples longer than others,”she said reassuringly.  
Aurelia forced a small smile; it was Leiada who came with her to the fertility clinic in the end, since she had not able to withstand the questions alone. She was about to pass on her gratitude when the radio perked up.  
  
“One alpha one, what’s your twenty? One alpha, what’s your twenty, over?”   
Aurelia felt suddenly irritated with headquarters calling on her location as if she didn’t have enough to do today with her tour of duty. She raised her monitor to her face to respond to which the asari gave a chuckle. “When are you are going to upgrade to a translator-com?” she questioned.  
  
“Oh you know me and technology. If it isn’t broke why fix it? The chase of technology- as soon as you get the best thing the upgraded version is available.”  
Leiada shook her head and simply gave in. There was no use arguing with the stubborn turian.  
“Ten-two Base, this is alpha one. My twenty is over the Presidium, ten-forty-one.” That should keep them quiet, knowing she was about to start her tour. She manoeuvred the patrol car from where she parked it.  
  
“Negative alpha one. We have a ten-ninety-four in your vicinity,” Base answered.  
  
“Ooo, a joy ride, what a way to start a morning,” Leiada said with a smirk, before extending her sniper. The move surprised Aurelia; it was just an ordinary joy-ride, surely a sniper was a bit of overkill, for something this simple?  
  
“Affirmative base, ten-eighty,” Aurelia replied, her heart pounding. There was nothing better than a little action to get the blood pumping. Before she could even contemplate, a red, rather expensive sports car whizzed passed them, rocking the squad car.  
Aurelia fixed, her eyes on the car making an extremely fast passing by them. This was their target.  
  
“Can we get a ten-forty-three on that car?” Aurelia called into her radio.The car got a few lengths ahead of them and so far they pursued with no siren.   
  
“Affirmative, Alpha one. It is a maroon sports vehicle, model Korime-x5, licence plate P.L.A.T.O.O.N.4.E.V.A” Platoon forever. One mandible flared in a smirk. That vanity plate could only belong to a turian, an arrogant turian at that or maybe a military nut. It didn’t matter in that moment. Whoever was driving was going down hard, a slight rebalance in the universe for all the injustices against her.  
  
The siren wailed loudly overhead as Aurelia urged the car faster. “Come on, old girl. You can do it,” she whispered as she swung between gaps in the traffic as their drivers were too stupid to get out of her way.  
In a way, she had to admire the driver ahead of her. Whoever was navigating the skycar manoeuvred the car with ease; ducking, diving and dodging obstacles as well as any fighter pilot. However, she was better; she didn’t leave boot camp with a first in piloting for nothing. Their vehicle outranked hers easily; police shuttles were only fixed to reach a certain speed and were not built for speed but durability and movement.  
  
“Spirits!” she cursed as she saw that while her shuttle was already using its second wind, the Korime had maybe four more gears in her. The red sports car pulled away from them at a desperate rate.  
  
“Screw this!” Leiada announced and unbuckled her safety belt, throwing open the side door. The reduction in aerodynamics rocked the shuttle almost to the point where Aurelia lost control.   
  
“What are you doing, you little fool?” Aurelia cursed as her fingers recalibrated the loss of speed and stability.  
  
“Ending this…” Leiada shot back as she lined up her sights on her sniper.  
  
“You can’t! Not at this speed! You’ll risk civilian casualties!” Aurelia shouldn’t have been surprised actually. Leiada was well known for such impulsive conduct. She should have known as soon as she saw the sniper out that someone or something was going to be shot.  
  
She watched the asari in her peripheral vision, how her stance was strong, despite the Kodiak rocking back and forth.  Leiada held her breath as the shot was taken.  
‘Perfect’ was the only word Aurelia could find to describe the cascade of sparks that hit the back tail of the car, rocking it off its course before it made a remarkably fast descent into the lakes. Luckily, it missed  a chance to hit civilians who were watching from the pristine bridges crossing the Presidium.  
  
“Spirits…” Aurelia called out, a little lost for words as she followed and hit the auto pilot to maintain an optimal hover over the crash.  
“Base, this is alpha-one. We have the ten-forty-three crashed partly in the water and partly on the sidewalk near the financial district. We need a 51 and a 52,” Aurelia recorded over before fixing a winch to her belt and grabbing her assault rifle from her back.   
  
“I don’t think a wrecker, will be enough to scrape that off the sidewalk,” Leiada snickered as she lowered Aurelia down, slowly, gun ready in case the accused tried to flee the scene. The turian female didn’t just let Leiada take a shot at a car not to get her man.  
  
It was as she set foot on solid ground that the side doors opened, and three people scrambled out. The first was a much panicked stricken asari whom Aurelia noticed immediately.  
Hearing the hard landing of Leiada behind her, she raised her gun sights to her eyes knowing backup was only just behind. “Freeze, don’t move or I will be forced to shoot.” The lines flowed from Aurelia, like water, well rehearsed and well seasoned.  
  
“Thalia, is that you?” Leiada questioned rather relaxed behind her, procedure no longer her responsibility since she left the ranks. “What’s a two bit, lower ward prostitute like you running around high town?”  
It was true, Thalia was well known to the force, perhaps the most booked streetwalker in C-sec history.  
  
There was no time to continue as two young turian males stumbled out of the driver and passenger side. The first, who exited the passenger side, was a fairly ordinary looking male with silver plates and red markings along his nose and eyes, markings she didn’t recognise. He immediately saw the gun and the officer pointing it in his direction. Despite being on his knees, he quickly raised his hands. That was before he saw the wreckage of a car he had crawled out of. “The car! My dad’s gonna kill me!” he shouted, forgetting the gun at his back and crawling over to the twisted mess that was formerly a rather nice Kirome-x5.  
  
The second took Aurelia aback, although she fought to keep the surprise hidden. His plates were as black as space, the only way to described them. From face to neck, he was completely dark, devoid of shine and lustre, his features hard to make out as his skin seemed to suck all light away. He was scowling. That was easy to see as his eyes were silver and bright as two stars in a sea of space.  She had never seen colouring like it. The asymmetrical gold markings across his face were just as curious. He didn’t raise his arms like the others. Standing well over six foot, he towered over her, his body language threatening. Aurelia quickly assessed the threat and aimed solely at him.  
  
“I said freeze,” she shouted at him, hearing her father’s drill sergeant tones echo in memory in her sub vocals.  
A foot edged forward, taunting her, and she raised her gun higher for a kill shot. This was her driver; she would prefer not to kill him.  
  
“Make me,” he challenged back, deathly calm, making Aurelia’s heart race. Although if she were prepared to be honest with herself in the moment, it was the scope of his voice that made her heart flutter. “What’s some two bit, spinster cop going to do? Do you know who I am?”  
Spinster, she was no spinster; she wasn’t even old enough to be considered so.  
  
“Ooo, bad move,” she heard Leiada call from behind her. She was right. Extremely bad move.  
  
“My fath-” before he could even finish, Aurelia moved. She swung the butt of her gun up in a perfect crescent, smacking him in the nose. She didn’t give two shits whom his father was; he broke the law, and he was going down.  
  
As he stumbled back, his hand held to his nose, Aurelia strapped her gun to her back and grabbed his free, flailing arm. She spun him around and pushed her foot in the back of his knee forcing him down, quick and painless, but the thrust onto the ground made a crack as his carapace hit the floor. She may have been small for a turian, but she was able. Even if this male was faster than her, she had the advantage and the know how.  
  
He struggled against the floor, trying to overpower her, but with her knee in his back, and both his hands behind his back all he could muster was in vain. She quickly summoned up Omni-tool cuffs and to relinquish his struggling tried to pick him up from his arms before she slammed him into the ground again.  
  
“You bitch!” he spluttered as ultramarine blood poured from his nose.  
She slammed him down again; this time it silenced him.  
  
“I’m arresting you for driving dangerously, failing to stop and assaulting an office,” she said proudly, her breath slightly lost as she tried to hold down several hundred pounds of prime turian male.   
  
“What are you talking about? I didn’t touch you!” the black faced male retorted.  
  
“Hmm, not what I saw,” Leiada announced behind Aurelia as she stepped closer. “You shouldn’t have said all those nasty things and perhaps we would have played nice.” It made Aurelia smile at the feeling she had such a loyal friend at her back.  
  
“Your word against ours!” he said, struggling again.  
Leiada folded her arms and laughed. “Let’s see, a two piece hooker, a coward and you a raging criminal against the word of a cop and a spectre. Yup, I can see that holding up in court.”  
  
“A spectre?” the turian on his hands and knees mourning the end of his car inquired turning around. “Tiberius, calm down, you can’t mess with spectres here...” he cautioned.   
So, his name was Tiberius. A prestigious name. She gave him another slam for just being a silver-spooned ass.  
  
“Please, ma’am,” the silver one pleaded, taking a step towards Aurelia. He was halted as Leiada raised her gun and he raised his hands in protest. “Please, let’s just talk. Let me first apologise for my friend here. He’s new to the Citadel. He didn’t know any better.”  
  
“Ignorance isn’t an excuse for breaking the law,” sneered Aurelia, as she lifted Tiberius on his feet and slammed him against what used to be the hood of the Korime. She kicked apart his legs and started to pat him down, looking for concealed weapons or banned drugs.  
  
“I understand that, ma’am, but we are in a world of trouble as it is. My father is going to kill us for wrecking his car… and a crowd is starting to gather. So please, I beg you.”  
  
“Hmm, I should add grand theft auto to the list of crimes you’ve committed today,” she was in no mood to play nice. Her scowl announced it.  
  
“Please, by all that is good and generous…” he begged.  
But Aurelia’s stubbornness was at full swing. “I’ll give you this deal- you get the hell out of my sight and Thalia, if I catch you in the Presidium, I’ll have you booked and jailed quicker than you can drop your panties. This punk is being booked. Now run, before I change my mind.”  
  
It didn’t take the unnamed male two milliseconds to take his chance; he backed away from the crime scene quicker than a defeated varren with his tail between his legs.  
  
“As for you,” Aurelia said, turning her gaze back to the male bent over before her. “I hope you can put up a better fight than this in jail.” She leaned in close to him. “They eat pretty boys like you for breakfast,” she hissed in his ear.  
  
Sirens filled the air of the Presidium as back up finally arrived. Regaining her composure, Aurelia read him his rights. “You have the right to remain silent, anything you do or say will be held against you in a court of law…”  
  


* * *

  
  
It was business as usual back in the office. Aurelia had finished her paperwork in record time, so she started arranging her desk neatly, everything in its place. She  seemed to have forgotten the morning at home and her previous grief; her thoughts didn’t even wander to the black faced turian. Instead, she was completely fixated on the mind numbing task of everything being in its place. That was until a senior female turian swept past her desk, the scent of spring flowers strong upon her. Aurelia raised her head to see a stunning white plated female dressed in black and gold robes storm pass all the desks and into the lift, looking like if anyone got in her way, she would kill the unlucky soul with her violet gaze.  
  
Violet. That was another unique colouring for a turian. What was with all these freaks she was seeing today? Shaking her mind off it, she began looking through data pads. An hour passed before she was interrupted again by someone standing in front of her screen. She turned up her head to see her older twin-brother Venari.  
  
“Brother,” she said with a nod of her head in greeting.  
  
“Aurelia, the turian you captured this morning is being released,” came a nonchalant reply.   
  
“What!” she shouted raising out of her seat so quickly that it knocked her chair over.  
Her brother hated such public displays of emotion. He grimaced and Aurelia shied away, realising she had embarrassed him and people were watching, especially since it was rumoured that he was being groomed to take the executor position.  
  
“How?” she asked softly, thinking it was something she had done wrong. Her brother was well known for impeccable paperwork, but on more than two occasions Aurelia had messed up quite a few arrests because she was not as diligent.  
  
“Turns out he’s from a very influential family,” Venari stated matter of factly, arms folded and in a tone that was still as damaging as if Aurelia had messed up personally. “His mother is here to collect him,” her brother continued.  
  
Aurelia’s mind flashed back to the glamorous turian she had seen earlier. Her markings were black and gold, but the same asymmetric pattern as the male she met earlier. As if they had heard their cue to come on stage, the lift opened to the scene of the mother holding her son by the curve of his mandible in a grip that would break rocks and baying for blood in her eyes. She swept out, son in hand as he mouthed ‘ow’ over and over again without actually letting out the cries of pain.  
  
The white turian walked directly towards the Pallin twins and Aurelia found herself shrinking behind her brother’s shoulder. “Are you Aurelia Pallin?” she queried, her accent not of the usual Palaven dialect. It was exotic and exuberant. They were clearly colony turians, something Aurelia hadn’t noticed immediately with her son.  
  
“Yes,” Aurelia said, and her brother stepped aside to let the female take her in full view.  
The mother of Tiberius looked her up and down, critical and not forgiving. “My son has something he wants to say to you.”  
  
“That won’t be necessary, ma’am,” Aurelia said quickly, finding this rather embarrassing, a fully grown male being chastised and handled like a child.  
It was as if the white female read her mind. “If Tiberius wants to act like a child, then he will be treated like one,” she hissed. This female was as friendly as a thresher maw. In fact,   
Aurelia was pretty sure thresher maws could be patted and tamed in comparison to this woman. She turned to her son and released his mandible, which he rubbed, before she slapped him in his arm and pushed him forward.  
  
Unable to look at her with his starlight eyes, he turned away and looked back at the lift. Aurelia had a feeling he wished to be back in his cell rather than here. She didn’t blame him.  
  
“I am sorry officer Pallin,” he mumbled, his eyes scowling as he was anything but sympathetic. But this did not go unnoticed by the dragon matron.  
  
“And...” she hissed, stepping closer behind him as if she was ready to strike, mandibles fluttering in warning.  
  
“And, I am deeply ashamed of my actions against you today.”  
She pinched him then, encouraging him on. Obviously she had given him an earful of what he should say when they left the elevator.  
  
His head snapped from the right and looked straight at her. His eyes sunken as the void they floated in. “I have embarrassed my mother, my blood, my ancestors, not forgetting myself and my good Cato name. I am from this day a law abiding turian citizen and I have you to thank for it.”  
  
Aurelia let out a small laugh, which she smothered with her hand. Her little giggle got a disapproving look from both her brother and the matron Cato. But when she looked back at that black face, it was smiling a little. His mandibles were spread slightly and there was a pleasant light to his eyes.  
  
She cleared her throat and smiled back, forgetting why she was so mad at him in the first place. This was better revenge than any jail time. She had this feeling in her gizzard that he knew it, too, so she played along.  
  
“I am glad to hear it. Let this be a lesson to you,” she said forcing the laughter from her words, even if she couldn’t keep a straight face.  
  
Tiberius bent from waist down, never breaking his silver eyes from her golden ones.  
  
“Good-bye officer,” he said, before his mother pointed to the docking bay.  
  
“You father is waiting in the car,” she said as her son stalked off and Aurelia’s eyes followed after him.   
  
“Thank you officers,” the matron Cato said, and Aurelia snapped her attention to the turian female in front of her, “For doing an outstanding job and keeping our streets safe.” With a curt nod, she swept out the room in the same direction as her son.  
  
“Aren’t you glad our mother isn’t like that?” Aurealia teased, The joke brought a small smile to her rigid brother’s face.  
  


* * *

  
  
The atmosphere in the study couldn’t be more lethargic. Some would simply say that the events of the day would be the cause, but within this household it was accepted as the spring rain. Marax stood behind his father’s chair. The fireplace burned, giving the dark room a sinister appeal. That’s how he would describe his father, sinister. All that could be seen of the aging turian was a wrinkled claw cupping a square glass of fine malt.  
  
Keeping his pale eyes on the rug, he could see his mother standing by the drinks cabinet pouring what she swore was her fourth drink, but in all honesty it was her seventh.  
“I always knew that Cato boy would end up in a brig of some kind or worse, hung,” his father said first to break the silence. Marax was somewhat relieved that his father’s first thoughts weren’t entirely fixed on the fact his son took the car without permission and ultimately left it totalled on a Presidium bridge.  
  
“Can you imagine the scandal. I have no idea how Priscia is ever going to live this down at the club,” his mother said, her words thickly slurred.  
His father snorted, sounding somewhat insulted that his mother spoke at all.  
“Silence, dear,” the Capius patriarch said full of malice and no love in his sub vocals at all. “If you don’t hurry, your street corner will be invaded,” he snorted again, and Marax’s mother said nothing in return, just downed her drink before pouring herself another.  
  
In a way Marax pitied his mother, the twisted existence she found herself in, attached to a cruel male who cared for nothing but maintaining his dominance among the hierarchy. But to say Marax hated his father was far from the truth. He knew his father thought him a fruitless waste of oxygen, but he had to admire the man’s drive, mind and knowhow. His father’s motto was ‘anything worth having is worth going for all the way- and if you can’t go through the front door, then go through the back.’ Everything they were today was because of his father. They didn’t come from a long distinguished line of generals and heroes. No, his father was a self made man. And it made Marax hunger to show his father that he was made of the same stuff.  
  
“The car was totalled, you say?” Marax’s thoughts were quickly distracted as his father spoke, a growling tone that made Marax grimace about what would happen next. “You’re lucky, son, that you got away with it, because I swear to the spirits that your nose would be five inches to the right.” There was an air of peace in his father voice, which made him relax a little. He was speared a beating, this time.  
  
“That Cato boy is a terrible influence on you. Whenever you two are in the same system, you end up in some form of trouble,” his mother said firmly, ignoring Marax’s father’s earlier lesson to be seen and not heard. It didn’t go uncorrected.  
  
“Shut-up,” Firon hissed. “Don’t try to educate the boy. You’re not a wife, nor a mother and certainly not a Capius. This is a discussion for them alone.”  
  
Once again, it was followed by silence from his mother, but he could hear the shifting of her skirts as she exited the room with no complaint. Marax was now left alone with his father, much to the disquiet within his heart. Not like his mother did anything to defend her offspring.  
  
“The thing about the Cato’s, is that they generally think they are better than us all. All because they can trace their lineage back to when nobles ran Palaven. It doesn’t help much that when the feudal system was overthrown, their noble ancestors became glory—hogging generals,” Firon continued contempt thick in his voice.  
  
Marax found it fascinating that his father despised the Cato’s so strongly and yet decided to invest heavily in their latest venture. He felt his tongue moving before he could even stop the words from forming at his frontal plates. “So why venture in business with them?” Had he been a younger man, that sentence would have been followed by his hands cupping his mouth, but instead he stood still, bracing himself for what happened next.  
  
Thankfully to the spirits, his father was in good spirits and did nothing but laugh bitterly. “Because I am no fool my son, if you have any hope in not running my legacy into the ground, take this one lesson - Your friends and enemies are all the same. They have one advantage- to raise you up. If they do not, they are useless to you. So bare your teeth and smile at them.”  
  
The young Capius did not know what to say to that, and so he stood in astonished silence.  
“The traitors cannot remain on top forever. They nearly fell during the colony wars, but I’ll tell you this, I will step on them or over them before my last breaths.”  
So that was it. They were not his friends, just a step on a ladder to better the family name. Marax bowed his head and excused himself out of the room quietly, but before he left he overheard his father muttering to himself.  
  
“By the spirits, I will ruin them.”


	2. Episode Two

Aurelia stared back at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her old silver dress still fitted her like a glove. Much to her disappointment. Her body should have changed by now, how it did when most females had children, widening of the hip and waist. But as she ran her fingers over her waist it was the same small shape it had been when she hit puberty.  
She sighed as she looked over the old-fashioned style of her dress. It was more than a few seasons out of fashion but it was the only one she owned and she wasn’t prepared to buy another, just for this one off occasion. It was asymmetrical as a clean cut over her right shoulder, went over her carapace before it was cut in two by a gun-metal grey belt, tied tight before it cascaded down her back in a plume of silly folds to join her skirt. The front was shorter than the back, something that was now unpopular in fashion as most dresses were all one length. Simple beading adorned the trim of her belt. It was the most expensive bit of her entire outfit. Glass beads never went out of fashion, she convinced herself as she tugged at her outfit, trying to make herself comfortable in wearing it.  
Lastly, a single sash tied to bracelets on each of her wrists finished the look off. This was another thing thrown out of fashion, extra bits of material that were impractical in today’s modern society. The dress also had a beaded hood, which she chose not to wear, thinking it was far too much.  
The last time she wore this dress was at her engagement party. It was the first time she met Syro, after the arrangement had been made by their families, and her mother had the dressed tailored just for her. The pale silver was chosen to compliment and exaggerate her monotone-golden plates.  
Aurelia didn’t own much jewellery, just a few choice bridal gifts. She put on the collar necklace; enlaced with eezo, it was the most expensive thing she owned. Not one for shiny baubles, she always swore that she could use it as a down payment on an apartment or even a private tutor for her children.  
Taking a deep breath, she strengthened the wavering feeling of sending Leiada a message to say she was unwell and would not be attending. She looked at her omnitool for messages; Leiada hadn’t left her alone for one second that night but as the hours went on the asari’s words became more jumbled. Aurelia assumed it was from drunken typing since the last message read.  
  
  
Whoiooooooo! Paaaaartaaaay~;  
L  
  
  
Aurelia found herself smiling. Now there was just one more task at hand. Her breathing quickened, raising the courage within herself. Aurelia swore and swore she would never ask again, but this was the last time she would try; by the spirits, she would not be one of those wives that hound her husband.  
“Syro,” she called as sweetly as she could muster from the bathroom. Her hands trembled, and she found her self wringing the material of her gloves - not the behavior you would expect from someone who handled an assault rifle; she quickly shook it off. There was no reply, and already she began to regret her choice.  
“Syro, my love. Are you sure you don’t want to accompany me to this ball? We don’t go out enough together and it will be a complete bore without you.”  
Aurelia followed the sound of clicking out into the hall, stopping beside the open doorway of her husband’s office.  
“So don’t go then,” came a gruff irritated response. Pressing her hand to the wall followed by her head, she resisted letting out a whimper of sadness. She tried so hard to play the doting and dutiful wife, but he made it so impossible for her.  
There were no more words between them and she felt a rise of anger from her gizzard. In defiance she stepped out into full view, in her old dress, the dress she originally wore for him, her eyes tight in a leer. She just wanted him to look at her, the beautiful wife he was pushing away, that he didn’t want.  
To her joy, he did stop for a moment and raise lime green eyes in her direction. She wanted him to approve, or disapprove, say something, anything. But all he did was lower his head to the dull orange glow of his screen and reply, “You’re wearing that?” There was a slight hint of a scoff in his tone that made Aurelia's mandibles click angrily.  
“Yes, Yes I am,” she said, standing proudly. She was going to wear the hell out of this old dress. Just let him see.  
“Very well, I won’t wait up then.”  
Aurelia couldn’t think of anything more hurtful for him to say. She stormed out the apartment, before the temptation to smack him in his arrogant, short crested head became too great.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
The ambience of the Dilinaga Concert Hall was light, the drone of conversation lifted into the air, occasionally disturbed by the clinking of glasses, toasting to good health of a business deal made. But there was at least one heart in that hall that was not feeling so festive.  
Tiberius resisted rubbing his left mandible again; it still ached from where his mother had grabbed him earlier in the precinct. He gave in eventually against the throb, lowering his hand quickly before his mother turned around to leer at him. There was a reason that his mother, Pricia, was known to be as fierce as a dragon--she could stun her sons into still silence with just a look. She could even manage it on older non-blood relatives. A talent she took advantage of at every opportunity.  
But it only took his father, Maximus, to slide his hand down her arm and grasp the small of her waist to steal her attention back; she gushed liked a smitten girl. The steel dragon was suddenly molten.  She pressed her white head to his shoulder, in a brief, desperate minute to themselves, before they broke apart as someone approached the small gathering of Catos.  
“Councillor,” Maximus said, nodding his head in greeting to the turian who took him by the arm and gave him a firm, stoic shake. “Let me introduce my wife, Pricia.” He turned his attention to Pricia, who bowed her head in a shallow greeting. “And my two sons: Tiberius and Vibus.”  
Tiberius bowed his head deeply for all his aches would allow; he assumed his brother did the same. Tiberius didn’t dare show signs of uncertainty by giving his younger brother a glance.  
“I hear it is your first time to the Citadel and to high society,” the councillor said politely to the brothers, although there was something strained in his voice. There was no need to answer; his mother did so for him.  
“They came once as boys, but now they are grown.”  
“Indeed,” the councillor said, the strain in his voice even stronger this time but he quickly turned his head towards Maximus and continued the conversation.  
“The Primarch does pass on his high hopes that this exploration of yours goes smoothly,” the councillor said formally to which his father smiled lightly.  
“Of course, it will be a benefit to our clans as well as the Hierarchy. We are just finalising the final permits and licences.”  
“Yes, so I’ve heard, this is a joint venture with Fibion Capius?” Pricia scoffed then at the mention of Marax’s father. When the councillor turned his head in surprise, she did nothing to show remorse for her actions.  
“Of course, it seemed only natural to ask someone as experienced in mining to join us.”  
The droning sound of his father’s words made Tiberius’ mind wander. Until his mother turned to face him and muttered, “Speak of the devil himself.” Her tone was if she had swallowed something foul tasting; her face reflected the same.  
Tiberius raised his head to see the hungry gaze of Marax’s father set upon the group, with son and wife in tow. Marax looked as downtrodden as Tiberius felt, but thank the spirits that this time there was no broken plate or two. His arm was tightly entwined with his mother’s, who seemed to walk unsteadily towards them.  
“Suprise, Suprise, Seaina is drunk again,” he heard Pricia mutter beside him.  
“Fibion, we were just talking about you!” Maximus announced heartily, taking Marax’s father tightly by the elbow and shaking it.  
“Well that will explain why my ears are burning,” sly, cold tones followed. There was something about his tone Tiberius didn’t like, nor the way his eyes drunk in each of their faces. There was a male Tiberius was unsure how to take. His mother despised the man; it was well known that he used to work for her father before the family business took a sudden downfall among the stock market and Firon surprisingly became very rich. There was no evidence of fraud, but it was nearly the Catos undoing and certainly sealed his grandfather’s. Maximus admired the man, however; he sung his praises, much to Pricia's dismay, but she didn’t argue against him. She also refused to show him any respect by acknowledging his presence.  
Tiberius caught the light blue eyes of Marax with a quick jerk of his head. He slid past his parents and sneaked behind a column, a sign they often used to slip out of sight and converse themselves. It didn’t take Marax long before he too slid around to join Tiberius away from the grown ups.  
“You look like you got off easy,” Tiberius said lightly, glancing around the column to make sure no one noticed the two missing.  
Marax just snorted and shook his head. “Give it a few days when my father actually sees the wreckage.”  
Tiberius laughed then, before the side of his face hurt and he grabbed his injured mandible.  
To this Marax raised a brow plate. “Your mother’s famous mandible grapple?”  
“You know it. I swear this time she would have torn it off there in the elevator. Do you know she made me apologise to that cop!” Tiberius announced in disdain.  
“Sounds like you got off light,” Marax retorted with a smirk.  
“You wouldn’t think so if you heard it. She practically had me swearing on my ancestors that I would be an upstanding citizen from this day forth.” To that Marax laughed. It was good to see his childhood friend smile; he had so little to be joyful about.  
“I hate these things,” Marax confessed bitterly as he gestured to the room of people, before hanging his head. “It’s so pointless.”  
“I wouldn’t know. My mother thinks I'm not ready for this sort of thing. I should think myself lucky to be here,” Tiberius confessed as he observed the scene of what he could from the edge of the column.  
"Look at them scurrying around the room like vermin, trying to catch the attentions of their betters. Then there are the officers, dressed up in their finest. Huddled together like prized cattle awaiting inspection," Marax scorned.  
The C-Sec Charity Ball was a sorry state of affairs. But Tiberius’ musings were quickly disturbed by Marax spurting out a warning. “Ti, don’t turn around.”  
It was only natural that Tiberius turned his head a little, to which Marax grabbed his shoulder and forced him back. “I said don’t look!”  
“Why?” Tiberius questioned.  
“You don’t want to know.”  
In that moment, Tiberius wanted to know, so he peered around the edge of the column only to see the cause of all his current anguish. “Her…” He hissed maliciously.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Aurelia entered the hall wide eyes and equally wide mouthed. She had never seen anything so grand in all her time on the Citadel; her plates tingled with anticipation and equal anxiety. Leiada was quite tipsy. She had this goofy smile on her face from the moment she met Aurelia outside her apartment in the sky car. Thank the spirits those things had automated pilot. She managed to polish off another bottle of something green and foul smelling on the ride over.  
“This is going to be so fun,” Leiada slurred as she tried to untie her jacket to reveal her outfit, but made a royal mess of it. With those words Aurelia felt her heart sink a little. Leiada was known for being a little boisterous, but now she was drunk and off duty. Only the spirits knew what she had in store for the pair tonight.  
Aurelia's worried thoughts were swiftly interrupted when she felt someone tug at her coat. Her defenses rose immediately and she turned to face her assailant, ready to defend her self. To her embarrassment, all she saw were the large muddy green eyes of a salarian waiter whose job was to take her jacket. Aurelia hung her head foolishly, removing her coat before handing the two tickets to the same waiter who observed them and welcomed them among the rabble.  
“Welcome, officers.” Officers? Plural? Leiada was no longer with the force. She turned her head to her asari friend, only to see her wink and whisper closer.  
“I’m undercover.” Her breath was strong with whatever she downed in the car. It was then Aurelia noticed her friend’s outfit; it was far from sophisticated.  
As if her companion noticed her thought process she shrugged. “I knew you would come dressed as a nun, one of us has to show off some flesh.”  
“Some flesh is fine Leiada, but all of it? That… belt? Cannot be considered an entire outfit. Where is the rest of it?”  
“Don’t mother me! I’m several hundred years older than you,” Leiada retorted as she spotted a tray of something alcoholic beautifully glassed. She swept two off the tray, one in each hand, startling the waiter.  
“Are these dextro safe?” she questioned, to which the waiter shook his head and pointed across the room.  
“You will want that tray, ma’am.”  
“Oh well.” Leiada turned, her eyes glassy and her goofy grin back firmly on her face as she sipped from each glass in turn. “More for me.”   
Aurelia placed her hand against her face and shook her head.  
“Aurelia.” She heard her name and turned quickly to see her brother dressed in his finest. She smiled sweetly and smoothed over the sash of his dress uniform.  
“Don’t you look dashing?” she teased, but her compliments were cut short as Leiada slipped in.  
“Venari, wow, I didn’t recognise you without the executor’s butt firmly attached to your face.”  
Aurelia fell quiet and took a step back as her brother’s mandibles clenched tight and she was sure she saw his eye twitch.  
“Leiada. You look more suited to be standing on a street corner. Won’t your mother be pleased,” he said calmly before turning to his sister and leaning close. “You should really reconsider the company you keep.” That was all he had to say as he walked off, upright and proud, disappearing into the crowd.  
“Why do you tease him so?” Aurelia said with a sigh.  
Leiada had this soft smile on her face, blue eyes fixated on the place Venari disappeared out of sight. “Because I want to know if that stick up his ass is the reason he stands so straight.” With that Leiada sauntered off.  
“Wait, what?” Aurelia questioned following after her companion. Did she even want to know what that honestly meant? The images that flashed across her mind made a shiver run up her spine.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Marax watched helplessly as the anger within Tiberius boiled uncontrollably, like a volcano about to erupt. Tiberius always thought he kept his emotions well hidden, but he was easier to read than a large font data-pad. It didn’t help that Vibus had come to join them and had his heart set on tormenting his older brother.  
“I hear you got your butt handed to you by a little turian female cop today,” sniggered Vibus, trying to nudge Marax who was growing more miserable by the second.  
“Would you like a demonstration, brother?” Tiberius snapped back, dangerously low, stepping closer to his brother, threatening his person. Vibus shrieked back hands raised in submission.  
“Leave it, Ti.” Marax said, stepping between the two. He always had to play peacekeeper. It was easier when they were younger; they could just say that Vibus was too young to play with the older boys back then.  
Vibus shrugged and shook his head at his brother’s open distaste.  
“She was quick and knew her grapples well. It didn’t help that she pistol whipped me either,” Tiberius confessed bitterly. To have Tiberius confess that despite all his pride had to of meant he considered Aurelia a worthy adversary.  
Vibus didn't seem to care, instead looking around the rather extravagant hall, but equally bored. “We’ve been to some pretty piss poor parties in our time, elder-brother, but this one is the pits.” To that Tiberius just snorted, slightly amused.  
“When can we go?” Vibus whined, his eyes darting about searching for something interesting to look at. “This is a punishment worse than hanging,” he continued to complain. “How can they expect us to find wives when they bring us to functions like this? Every turian female here is either old or worse. I’ve seen tic ridden varren that have looked better.”  
“Not all the turian females,” Marax said quietly, hoping his words would go unnoticed. They didn’t.  
“What do you mean?” Vibus questioned, but Marax would say no more. It didn’t take Vibus long to see what he was talking about.  
“Oh, hello,” the younger Cato said, and he raised himself higher on his toes to get a better view of what caught his eye.  
Marax followed his line of sight carefully to see it firmly placed on the cop that they had a confrontation with earlier. She cleaned up well in a fine silver dress, even though it was out of date. He was certain he remembered his grandmother wearing something similar, but it suited her. Her former C-sec uniform hid such a small waist and wide pelvis from being admired. He found himself taken aback with how she looked.  
Marax took in the nervous and self-conscious body language of the female while she chatted lightly with some other companions whom Marax could only assume were also C-Sec. She looked out of place without an assault rifle strapped to her back and tackling criminals for some tough justice. No, without the black and blue, she looked delicate, like a flower growing out a weed bush. How on Palaven was she on the force?  
“That’s the one who arrested us this morning,” Marax pointed out to Vibus without thinking much about the consequences for the prideful Cato brother.  
“Her? That!” Vibus started, spluttering between fits of hearty laughter.  
“Oh, Tiberius, how did you ever let that little thing bring you down. You were the best in your regiment for hand-to-hand.”  
Without a moment’s notice, Tiberius, who had remained quiet in thought as his friend and brother discussed the turian female, moved off his fixed position. He had erupted and it wasn’t going to be pretty. Marax attempted to grab his hand, but Tiberius was bigger and stronger than him easily. He merely shrugged off his friend and charged straight off to the cop.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
“Just look at him there, shaking stuff like he owns the joint,” said Kotris, one of the mechanics Aurelia had befriended when she needed to bring in her shuttle for repairs. They were all watching her brother follow the executor around and being introduced to VIPs of the party.  
Aurelia couldn’t scorn Venari, however. She felt incredibly proud and in the moment decided to defend her twin. “You know who our father is; you should assume that we would join a force of some kind and aim high.”  
With that Kotris relented but decided to turn his assault on Aurelia. “So how does that explain you then?” he said with a smirk. Aurelia exhaled hard through her nose. She had to admit she wasn’t the greatest example of C-Sec’s best and brightest, but she certainly wasn’t the worst.  
“She gonna be on maternity leave soon, raising beautiful little golden turian babies,” Leiada said, a platter of something weird looking in her arms as she popped one thing after another in her mouth. This was Aurelia's idea to sober her up.  
“Exactly,” Aurelia perked up, thankful she now came along with Leiada. ”My parents expect grandchildren; they have to come from somewhere. You of all people should know where babies come from Kotris.” A fit of giggles erupted from the gathering of C-sec workers at her well placed dig. Kotris was a well known playboy; his victims had ended up pregnant once or thrice.  
Aurelia let her eyes fall on the faces of the Citadel’s wealthy and important. Gathered in front of her, she felt somewhat detached from those who patroned C-Sec and her charities. It didn’t take long until her gaze passed over one angry face, a familiar angry face--the dark plated turian who she arrested this morning. Her heart sank as she realised she was unarmed and he was stalking towards her.  
He stopped suddenly when all eyes of the party turned to him. Aurelia wondered if he had lost his nerve. He nodded his head in a curt greeting, but those silver eyes fixated on Aurelia like something about to swoop in for the kill and she didn’t find it civil. “Officer,” he said calmly and politely enough, however the scowl on his face was anything but pleasant.  
“Citizen,” Aurelia answered equally politely as she sipped from her flute, resisting the urge to down it. She needed to be a picture of calm to defuse the situation here. “Are you still abiding the law?” It was supposed to sound light-hearted and playful, to divert his scowl away from her without causing a scene. However it came out much curter than she intended.  
  
  
“Yes,” he replied, low and hard, his jaw tense as he grinded his teeth. “I see the spinster has arrived to the party alone. Where is your mate?” His courteous mask was falling at an orbital decent rate, and had Aurelia clenching her jaw tight as he called her, once again, a spinster.  
“He’s at home working, I believe,” Aurelia answered through gritted teeth.  
Tiberius was about to say something else, before Leiada stepped into full view. “Well aren’t you a large glass of tall dark and handsome.”  
Spirits bless that asari; the tense atmosphere of the group erupted in a fit of laughter. His name was Tiberius, Aurelia recalled. He didn’t know what to do with himself as his mouth hung open in stunned silence and his eyes trailed down the length of Leiada's body. 'Typical,' Aurelia thought.  
“You like mischief, don’t you?” Leiada said before grabbing his wrist. “Come on.” She dragged him away, but not before she turned back to give Aurelia a little wink.  
As they disappeared into the crowed, another familiar face made itself known. The red marked male who lost his car. “Where did he go now?”  
Aurelia stepped forward and greeted him, pointing through a parting of heads to where the two chatted happily together. “About to get himself into a world of trouble with that one,” she chirped rather reserved. She was cautious; after all, she’d nearly arrested him this morning. Still, she didn't want to cause a scene, not on her brother's big day; there were as many eyes on her as there were on him.  
The red marked male, shook his head and sighed. “I’m more concerned about your friend; Tiberius is quite chaotic even if she is a spectre,” he answered with a snort.  
“I seriously doubt that,” Aurelia returned skeptically. “This one time, Leiada stole the Varacan, which was docked for repairs, to take down a shuttle. She destroyed it.”  
The male snorted, not taking his eyes off the pair. “That’s nothing. One time Ti ‘borrowed’ my father’s yacht and crashed it into Menae.”  
Aurelia laughed then. He was certainly not the cowardly man-child she expected when she apprehended them this morning; however her laughter suddenly stopped as she processed the information. “Wait. A boat?”  
“Yes.”  
“On Meane, the moon?”  
“The very same,” he replied  
“But that’s impossible…” Aurelia answered in disbelief.  
“Don’t ask me how he managed it, but he did. I remember seeing the recovery bill myself.”  
“Then we better stop them before they do something drastic like destroy the Citadel.”  
His gaze seemed to consider her carefully. Their earlier meeting had not gone as well as this one was going. “Marax Capius,” he said, tentatively offering his arm for her to take.  
“Aurelia Pallin,” she replied, taking him by the wrist and shaking it firm and sure.   
Marax must have interpreted her wrist grip as a good sign, visibly relaxing before he quipped, “Come on. I don’t think we have long before the galaxy implodes.” Aurelia snorted bemusedly before following him into the crowd.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Aurelia was positively charming Marax had decided, their earlier confrontation forgotten. She had a sharp wit and equally intelligent mind. She was scanning the room looking for their two chaotic friends who were upsetting more than their fair share of VIPs.  
“Where are they now?” Marax asked, sitting at a table that had a good scope of the entire hall.  
“Leiada is drunk enough that she has finally noticed the auction shinnies. They can’t cause any trouble over there,” Aurelia replied calmly. There was quiet nobility about her, which was quite infectious, something Marax didn’t notice when he first met her. Then again, having a gun pointed in your face didn’t give the best opportunity to observe someone.  
“So what’s her story?” Marax started, nodding his head in Leiada’s direction, taking advantage of his first real opportunity to discuss the woman he had been following around the hall for ages. The drunken spectre was holding a piece of thin-strip, scrawling something on it before showing it to Tiberius who was trying to laugh quietly.  
Aurelia shook her head. Whatever information she had she wasn’t giving it over. “It’s not my place to say; but let’s just put it down to issues with her father and mother.”  
“Sounds like she fits right in with us then.”  
“Oh?” Aurelia enquired, sipping on her drink. Marax observed that it was non-alcoholic.  
“Tiberius. He has a good name and a long lineage. A technical genius. Passionate, but it seems like all that outside pressure makes him not focus and drives him down a path that could possibly destroy him.”  
His golden companion didn’t seem to pay much mind to Tiberius’ praises. “And what of you, Marax?”  
“There isn’t much to say; I’m just a son of a self-made man. I’m no Cato. Antiques of my ancestors don’t line my halls, nor do I have a great burden on my shoulders.” She tilted her head at him, with an expression he could only translate as quiet consideration. But he shook his head. “And yourself, Aurelia?”  
She raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Hmm...I could bore you with the C-Sec sob story, but it will pale in comparison to sons who rebel against their burdens and find them less worthy than their friends.”  
Marax laughed uncomfortably. She was right; he did feel small in Tiberius’ shadow and he wanted everything the turian had--from his loving and caring parents, a mother who cared enough to discipline him. To how everyone noticed him first; due to his strange colouration and ever more unique markings.  
After Marax’s laughter died out, an uncomfortable silence fell between them. The atmosphere was saved by the spectre coming to sit down at the table; Tiberius casually followed.  
“Why do you have this satisfied look across your face, Leiada?” Aurelia was quick to observe.  
The asari did have a guilty look of satisfaction as she smoothed down her dress and stared back at Tiberius intensely. “Can’t a girl sit down? We wanted to know what you two were talking about, looking so cosy together.”  
Aurelia didn't look convinced and folded her arms like a cross mother.  
Marax turned to look at Tiberius, who looked like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. He said nothing and remained quiet.  
“Ladies and Gentlemen, the results from the silent auction are about to begin. Please take your seats,” an announcement suddenly burst into the room and people scurried to find an empty seat in a murmur of noise.  
Councillor Tevos took the podium, to which a round of applause happened and stopped briefly.  
“Thank you all, for joining us here at the two-hundred and fifth C-sec Charity Ball. The proceeds from the auction go to bolstering the equipment for C-sec and of course, her two biggest charities that support our injured officers and families of deceased officers.” Applause erupted around the room again, and the asari councillor raised her hand demurely, to make it cease.  
“Our first prize is a lovely luxury yacht.” She started, and a few excited whispers began around the room. It was now Tiberius began to grin, shooting the asari spectre a look.  
“And ladies and gentlemen we have a very generous donation for this one, ten million credits.” There was a shocked gasp around the hall as people tried to guess who placed such a generous amount.  
“Hugh Janus,” Councillor Tevos announced, and a stunned silence filled the room, followed by some nervous giggles.  
“Huge Anus?” the councillor repeated, which was followed by more confidant laughs, Tiberius and Leiada being two of them.  
“Spirits, no!” Aurelia announced quickly shooting a look at Leiada, who looked incredibly pleased with herself. “What have you done?” she continued, grabbing the asari by her arm. “You’re going to get you spectre Status revoked.”  
“That’s the plan,” Leiada replied lazily, trying to free her arm from Aurelia’s grip. But the turian female didn’t relent and dragged the asari to her feet.  
“Ladies and gentlemen, we seem to have a technical difficulty. Please give our operators just a moment to fix this mishap,” Tevos said calmly, although her face was flushed a deeper blue than it was originally.  
It was in this confusion that Aurelia dragged her asari friend out of the room, trying to be as discreet as possible. But the asari turned back to Tiberius and pointed to her ear. ‘Call me’ she mouthed, before she disappeared completely beyond a sea of people.  
Marax wasn’t sure what just happened, but their harmless looking at the prizes wasn’t as harmless as Aurelia had earlier announced.  
Tiberius yawned and stretched, grabbing hold of his cowl, and adjusting the thick padding that covered his carapace. “I’m not fond of asari, as you know Marax. But that one I do like.” He turned, flinging his arm over the chair to watch the chaos that he took part in.  
Marax just sat in quiet horror, unsure what to say.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
The glow in his office seemed to have a sinister aura about it. Perhaps it was the message that he was reading. He released a strained exhalation; it felt like years since he had even taken a breath. His body shivered and quaked as he read over the words again.  
Everything felt so temperamental--his new job, his new wife, his new status and this apartment. It was all too good to be true. He was a simple turian with simple values. His family were farmers by trade and by the spirits, he didn’t want to be shifting dirt for the rest of his life like his father.  
It wasn’t often that a turian went into the economic markets, but here he was, a turian accountant for a large firm. His maths were not salarian or volus strong, but he was told he had the charisma and thus was given his own accounts to manage. His family had half beggared the ranch to fund his ambition and education.  
He rubbed his hand against his face, unsure how he fell into this crisis. He looked at the accounts again. He only had to do this a few more times, he prayed. His omni-tool bleeped; Syro was receiving a call. His eyes flicked up to the clock. It was late but Aurelia wasn’t home yet, perhaps it was a good thing. His fingers trembled as he answered it.  
“Hello?” he said cautiously, his voice breaking, and he wished he had attempted to clear it before answering. “Yes, I’m about to do that now.”  
The room felt incredibly dark and cold and a chill run up his spine.  
“Of course, tell your boss that he can trust me. I know what I’m doing. No one will find out.”  
It felt like a lie. Syro had no idea what he was doing. He looked around at his desk and the haphazardly scattered data-pads. The mess of his desk equalled the mess in his mind. Suddenly, it felt like his heart had stopped. As the electronic voice cut through his ear and chilled his soul.  
“Tha-that’s uncalled for. I know what you would do if this wasn’t a success,” he replied hastily, rising to his feet in a panic. The silence fell into the room again, and Syro could do nothing but stare out to the creeping darkness.  
“Don-don’t you lay a digit on her. I’ll go to C-sec. I’ll do the time if it means I’m taking you down with me!” he said, his tone betraying that he wasn’t as brave as his words. He froze, suddenly realising what he had said. These people were supposed to be his allies, yet they treated him like this. Syro's imagination began to run wild of what they would do to an enemy.  
“You are right. It isn’t worth the risk. I apologise. I said that hastily. Just don’t hurt her; I’ll do what you want.” With that the call ended and he leaned back in his chair.  
Pressing his hands against his face, Syro resisted the urge to let out a cry. “Spirits don’t forsake me,” he whimpered out to the darkness ready to swallow him whole.


	3. Episode Three

“How foolish can you be? Leiada?” came a very cross-sounding voice on a holo-call. It took Aurelia a moment to recognise the voice belonged to none other than Councilor Tevos.  
  
In Aurelia’s awakening haze, she quickly realised that this was a private conversation and she shouldn’t be here to listen in. Attempting to roll over discreetly from her position on Leiada’s sofa, every bone in her back seemed to click as she performed the movement. Lying flat like this wasn’t good for her posture.  
  
Aurelia tried her best to remain quiet and out of sight; dropping to the floor on her stomach, she found there was nowhere else to crawl to. The sofa was situated in the middle of the living area far from  the door and no other furniture in close proximity.  
  
“What would your father say?” So far Leiada had remained silent over the ear bashing, as Tevos seemed to lash out at the maiden trying to get a rise out of her.  Aurelia could tell by the way the atmosphere in the room seemed to darken that perhaps that last line had done it.  
  
“What, you want me to apologise?” came a little cocky response; Aurelia could hear Leiada’s trademark grin. In her mind it was all teeth and completely threatening. “Well I’m not. So you had a few more pampered butts to sweet talk, but we both know you’re good at that.”  
  
Aurelia’s couldn’t help but wonder what she would do if any of her children spoke to her like that, especially after embarrassing her the way Leiada had Tevos.  She guessed she’d clip an errant child around the head, but she was almost certain she wouldn’t have any children with Leiada’s issues. It was hard to think of the asari as a child, especially when she out-aged her by more than a couple hundred years, but she was a child in asari eyes--one that wielded a gun and licence to wreak havoc. However inappropriate her position was, it kept Leiada out of seedy clubs--well almost out of them.  
  
A growl echoed from Tevos at that point, “My office, ten minutes, NOW.“ With a click the call was over.  
  
Not wasting a second, Aurelia took the opportunity to sit up, her back creating a few more clicks as she did so. She watched the young asari stare at the screen for a moment; fists clenched repressing her rage.  
  
“Are you going to be alright?” Aurelia asked softly, feeling a little awkward that she had been present to hear Leiada berated by her mother, if she was honest.  
  
Leiada spun around on the balls of her feet and flashed a tired-looking smile. “She’ll have to catch me first,” the asari boasted before stretching herself. It had been a restless night for the both of them. “I’ll lay low for a little while, let her cool before I go looking for trouble.”  
  
Aurelia laughed wearily and rubbed the back of her neck; it felt like every muscle was tangled with every plate. “You could just not look for trouble?” Her words fell on deaf ears, but Aurelia was compelled to share her little tidbits of wisdom; she had no one else to share them with.  
  
Leiada snorted at the well given advise. “What fun would life be then?” Aurelia simply just shook her head; there was no point flogging a dead varren. With her dress feeling heavy on her aching body, she smoothed over the fabric and let out a weary sigh.  “I should head home; thank you by the way. I didn’t feel like going home last night.”  
  
Leiada nodded briefly as she fiddled with her omni-tool, Aurelia presumed preparing to miraculously vanish from the councillor’s line of fire.  
  
“Anytime, will you be alright?”  
  
With another sigh Aurelia nodded her head in agreement and headed for the door. “The best thing about going to that ball has to be the one day of paid holiday. Syro should be at work. I’m sure he didn’t even notice my absence.”  With that she excused herself out of Leiada’s apartment and made her way to the cross-ward metro, feeling a little out of place walking the streets in what was clearly an evening dress.  
  


* * *

  
  
While her journey had gone smoothly thus far, it wasn’t until she was at Bachjret transport hub that her feet fused to the floor. Aurelia didn’t want to go home. Even if Syro wasn’t there, she just didn’t want to face the empty rooms and halls.  
  
Breathing deeply, she turned right instead of left, moving in the opposite direction from the apartment.  She a day to herself and she determined to do something for herself for a change, perhaps buy something to change into so others wouldn’t look at her like she was a ‘dirty stop-out'.  
  
Aurelia wasn't one for shopping; she despised females that spent their days at the malls and bazaars as if they had nothing better to do with themselves. But after passing through a munitions store, followed by a tech and entertainment shop, she began to quietly enjoy herself. Once she reached the tailors, carrying her tiny packages of carefully chosen mods for her rifle, she didn’t even mind the look the cashier gave her when she handed over the tags to be scanned and proudly announced she would be wearing her outfit out of the store.  
  
Once outside, a rumble in her gizzard confirmed that it was time to eat; it was about lunchtime anyway.  She hadn't even broken her fast since last night. “Terrible habits," she muttered to herself, remnants of her mother telling her the importance of nutrition--the fast always should be broken, even if she went the entire day with nothing else, always remember to break the fast.  
  
It was at the food court that her nose caught the smell of roasting meat marinated in something sweet, the air sticky with the sensation. Perhaps it was the fact that she was so distracted by her guiding stomach that the call of 'STOP, THIEF!' didn’t bring her to alert attention right away.  She turned towards the call, but her eyes initially missed the small object that bumped into her at quite a speed; it could have knocked the turian off her feet had she not been a collection of bone, plate and sinew.  
  
Her packages went flying, but her hands quickly grabbed the shoulder of the small turian in front of her whose face slowly came into focus as she kneeled down to his level. He was a small turian child, incredibly dirty as she could smell more than a week’s worth of filth on him. Her nose wrinkled at the burn. But for a moment she was lost in his large ocean blue eyes, wide with terror before they narrowed in anger.  
  
"Hey, let go of me!" he cried out as he tried to kick himself free, his voice far too high and the two distinct vocals of her race missing as his sub-vocals hadn’t dropped. It was then instinct kicked in with Aurelia.  She spun the child roughly by grappling his shoulder while her other hand twisted his arm till he was in a perfect grapple. He struggled a little, testing each side of her grab, but each exit was blocked by the promise of pain. He screamed and kicked in a tantrum before dissolving into a defeated whimper.  
  
It was then a salarian sales clerk come running up to the pair and a quickly gathering crowd. “Ah good, you caught the duct bastard. Little thieves. All day long they steal from my shop. I’ve waited a long time to get my hands on one." He rubbed his hands in a menacing fashion that made Aurelia narrow her eyes and tighten the arm that was across the boy’s throat. She drew him closer to her, so much so his developing crest dug into her abdomen.  
  
“The law isn’t for you to take in your own hands," she replied dutifully, but the clerk just scoffed," I don’t see any cops here, do you?"  
  
She snorted in response, “I happen to be with C-Sec.”  
  
The clerk looked her up then down as if she was a liar, which made Aurelia want to slap the salarian across the face. He must have read her thoughts as he quickly stopped and looked embarrassed.  “Well of course officer, I assume you’ll be taking the child in. Will you be taking my official complaint now? I want to make sure this delinquent isn’t here to take advantage of me.”  
  
“Ugh,” she muttered audibly. That’s the last thing she wanted to do right now, be at work. But it would keep her from going home.  
  
“No please!” squealed the child in her arms as he attempted to struggle free from her. She held him even closer till his crest dug in so much it hurt. “Hush, yourself,” she said soothingly, then barked back at the clerk, “I’m off duty, right now, but you can come down to the Academy and make an official complaint tomorrow.”  
  
The salarian blinked with his two strange eyelids and sighed. “Very well,” he said as he began picking up the items the child dropped. Aurelia noticed that they were just simple dehydrated ration packs, not even the high grade kind. She felt her heart suddenly break. The child had been stealing food.  
  
A kindly observer collected her own parcels and held them out for Aurelia to take.  She loosened her grip on the child, but made sure she still had a firm grasp on his wrist. She took them and carefully placed them in the bag that held her clothing. By now the crowd had begun to disperse and the child started wailing again. “Please, don’t.  The other kids won’t take me back if I come back without food.  They’ll know I was arrested!”  She tugged on his arm, and dragged him away from the market and out of earshot.  
  
“Please, I don’t want to go to jail!” he continued and she sighed and brought him closer, bending down to his height.  
  
“Quiet yourself,” she commanded a lot harsher than she meant to. She sighed again and shook her head. She was breaking protocol, but there was no hope for kids like him. They would only send him into the foster programme, prone to abuse at every level. Sometimes the most unattractive option was better--he was far too young to go to jail. “I’m hungry, aren’t’ you?” she said, attempting to sound like Officer Pallin but more like herself, trying to smile. The child stopped struggling for a moment, those large blue eyes wide with curiosity and less with fright.  
  
They found a nice open cafe, not too busy despite it being lunch time. The child wolfed down three trays of food and was already on fourth, barely stopping to breathe as he inhaled the food like it was his last.  Aurelia had finished her lunch quickly.  Working a beat she’d learnt to eat quickly or end up not eating at all. She sipped on her drink and watched the child with quiet pleasure. This was the right thing to do. The warm feeling she was getting was reward enough to knock all thoughts of guilt for not following protocol.  
  
“What’s your name?” she asked as the child gasped for a break taking large gulps of his drink.  
  
“Click,” he said before shovelling more food into his waiting mouth. Aurelia laughed, she could understand why he had gotten that name--his mandibles slammed hard against his jaw while he talked, a horrible speech impediment. The syllable was used often in turian dialects, but this child did it too often.  
  
“Young, man, I am an officer of the law, and your elder. Show me some respect with your real name, not your ‘street’ name,” she said with a smile as she rested her head on the back of her hand.  
  
He stopped and looked up at her, considering her person rather than her words and shook his head. “You’re not a cop; you’re too nice and pretty.” She raised a brow plate at that, but he swallowed his food and nodded to himself as if coming to an agreement about something.  
  
“Aegidius used to be my name,” he said quietly, before he drank a little more.  
  
“Aegidius...” she repeated with a nod, before reaching for a damp napkin.  She took his jaw in her fingers, scrubbing at his face. His name was a bit of a mouthful; ‘Click’ would serve them just well.  
  
“Hey, what are you doing?” Click protested, smacking her hand away.  
  
“I’m just seeing if there is a handsome turian face beneath all that dirt to go with that handsome name,” Aurelia flattered and sat back in her chair to take in his visage.  “Why, bless the spirits there is! You would never have known.” Aurelia wasn’t just flattering him, she spoke truthfully; he had a fine facial structure, high cheek-bones, long mandibles and a very straight nose. His plates were pleasing silver, with a metallic blue sheen to them much like his eyes; he would be a very handsome male once he reached maturity.  
  
Click looked at his food, unsure what to say before he pushed his plate away. It seemed his bottomless pit stomach actually did have a bottom and it was full. “Listen, lady. Thanks and all for the food, but I should be getting back.”  
  
“To your mother?” she quickly interrupted hoping to hold him here with her a little longer and learn more about him. But Click just shook his head. “No, don’t have a mother.”  
  
“Ah” Aurelia replied, before sitting back in her chair. She was filled with rage and hurt all at once. “Where is she?”  
  
“Don’t know, I lost her in the market one day. She said for me to wait by the fountain while she went to speak to a friend, but I lost her in all the people.”  
  
He had been abandoned. Aurelia felt her heart sink. She was hoping she had died, or something of that sort. Her rage grew. There was nothing she wanted more than a child of her own and yet there were mothers out there abandoning their offspring. There was no excuse; Aurelia couldn’t forgive the faceless female.  
  
“Don’t worry, I have a new family now, other lost kids like me. We all stick together out here,” Click replied to her silent concern in a much happier tone. “When I’m big like the older boys they’ll let me work for them, so I don’t have to be on food duty anymore!” he said,  excited at his future prospects. Aurelia felt awful. She knew about the street gangs, hidden in the lower wards of the Citadel, run by men and teenagers, a life that led down only one path. She wondered how many years it would be before she saw this youth with gang marking at the other end of her gun sight. If she had sense she would take him home with her right now and raise him as her own.  
  
“Why not join the army, “she said hastily to push such inappropriate thoughts from her mind. “You can’t be that far from your civil service.” Aurelia looked him over again. He was small, but it could have been just malnutrition.   
  
Click just shook his head. “The older ones say that the army don’t take clan less bastards like us,” he said sadly, as if he had already possessed the dream wholeheartedly and cast it aside crushed.  
  
Aurelia settled her hand on his and rubbed the smooth surface of his hide. “That’s not true, little one. The army is for all respectable turians to play their part for our society, do their duty, barefaced and clan less alike. Even a few of our occupied races even serve with the army to earn turian citizenship. There is nothing better than being a citizen. To move on from being a boy to becoming a man.” She finished with a smile. Of course it would be hard for him and he would be treated like filth. His battles would be hard to fight, but he was a turian and not a member of an occupied species. He could fight and win and come out on top.  
  
“Really!” he said hopefully his little face lighting up, brightly burning away the residue dirt and despair. She smiled wide and nodded, he then began counting on his fingers. “I am eleven now, so I just have four more years to wait!”  
  
“My, not long at all.” It wasn’t a long time, but for Click, liveing hand to mouth and facing the ever present dangers of the duct rat, it might as well have been ten. But he could make it.  After all, he had survived this long. “Plenty of time to train and keep yourself out of trouble.”  
  
Click looked down at his unfinished meal, appearing somewhat ashamed. “You are right; the army won’t take a thief.”  
  
With that she bid farewell to him, handing him some legally bought food packages and few other things his friends could use. “Remember, Click, if you ever get into trouble, just come and find me.” It was a token gesture; she most likely would never see him again, but she wanted to offer an out if he would take it.  
  
He nodded and looked at the piece of thin-strip held in his hand. “Officer A. Pallin - #2887398,” he read out slowly, sounding out the words silently before saying them.  
  
“That’s right. Aurelia Pallin. Remember, Click, any trouble.”  
  
He nodded a smile as big as anything she could possibly imagine. With his hands full of packages he scampered off disappearing between waves of people who just didn’t see him.  
  


* * *

  
  
The lights of the room flickered on with their usual clinical brightness, leaving Seaina to flinch violently out of her drunken haze and pull the blankets higher over her head. She heard movement in the room; the ‘help’ didn’t fear her enough to leave her alone. She was as invisible to them as she was to her son and husband. A wraith. No, wraiths were usually violent and held strength. She was meeker than that.  
  
She peeled back satin sheets to peer out to see who or what had disturbed her isolation. Her eyes stung, her mouth felt fuzzy and every muscle in her body ached as if she had already received a weeks worth of beatings. Her eyes dragged along the edge of the room, scanning, until on the far side of her chambers she noticed the quarian. ‘Filthy creature’ she thought as she sneered in contempt. She didn’t know why her husband Fibion hired such lowly class of servants. As if their household wasn’t the laughing stock of the entire citadel-elite already.  
  
The quarian began noisily uncovering a maintenance vent. Each metallic sound was like a cold blade to her brain. Sitting up suddenly with a growl she threw staring daggers to his back. Like everyone else he ignored her until he finished with his drill and set it to the floor. He truned his obscured face to her, white orbs seemingly floating in the void of purple of his helmet’s visor. Those white eyes squinted, either smiling or sneering at her. Considering she had never seen him before, she assumed it was the former.  
  
“Well someone looks like they had a good night,” he said cheerily and quite informally. Didn’t he know who she was and what he was, that he would casually chat to her like she was his friend?  
  
“Do you mind!” she squeaked at him, her voice croaking where she hadn’t used it in a while. She never had the kind of voice to command dominance; no, she wasn’t a Pricia Cato who could halt a charging thresher maul with just one look. In her father’s household, females were raised to be her father's ideal of a wife, mild mannered with good temperaments. Like mounts… Fibion, too, agreed with this philosophy. He came to her father and openly declared he wanted the prettiest of his daughters with the best temperament to breed a son on. Seaina did know however that she had a pleasant singing voice. She had been complimented on it many a time, but for the past decade or two she had very little reason to raise her voice in song.  
  
The quarian stared back at her blankly with those ghastly eyes before turning back to his work. “Sorry mistress; but I’ve been ordered to work on the climate control. If your husband finds out I’ve been slow or sloppy it will be another pay cut I can’t afford.”  It was just like her husband; he managed his servants like he managed his household--with an iron fist.  
  
She was so god damn thirsty and too exhausted to argue to throw fits of hysterics to drive him out. She simply slinked out of the bed, putting on a robe, and walked to the bathroom. Splashing a little water on her face she made the mistake of looking at her own reflection. Green eyes stared back to her, looking hallow. Touching her cheeks she noticed she was gaunt. Seaina made a note to make sure she ate something today less she displease Fibion and rile him up into anger. That’s how you survived here; you did nothing to cause him to notice you, and if his gaze passed you unnoticed then you were safe for that moment at least. That’s how she survived; one awful day at a time  
  
Raised voices a few rooms over startled her. She could hear the muffled argument through several plates of metal and concrete. Marax had not been following the golden rule of the house; he was so desperate for his father’s approval he flung himself into the firing range each time.  
  
Something smashed and the sound of something hitting the floor with a thud made her mind run wild. That noise sounded so familiar to a body hitting the floor... What if Fibion actually seriously hurt the boy this time? She froze as her gizzard riled and turned flips; she so badly wanted to go out there and protect her son. She swept out of the bathroom and to the door of her chamber. She was just about to press the floating green lock when a suited hand shot out in front of her, blocking the pad from her reach. Startled at the quarian’s brazenness, tears began to fill her eyes as clenched fists fell to her sides.  
  
White eyes stared at her intently. “I wouldn’t go out there if I were you, ma’am.” His accent was so thick, but the tone indicated someone telling you the natural dangers of the world rather than offering a kindly suggestion. She turned away quickly before the tears dropped. She didn’t know what stung more: the fact that everyone knew their shame or the fact she didn’t actually have the backbone to push past and do what she wanted anyway. She slunk back to her bed and pulled the blanket over her head. Sobbing silently as she had trained herself to do.  
  
Her boy was a man now; she could no longer protect him.  
  


* * *

  
  
Double doors of a suite of Citadel apartments opened with their usual grace, though the gloomy figure standing within them made the household help scatter like vermin as if they’d  slammed open. Pricia was on the warpath. She had spent the morning apologising to the turian and Citadel dignitaries for her son’s involvement in the prank.  The main culprit had vanished without a trace.  No information could be found about the scantily clad asari he was gallivanting about the hall with; he refused to hand over her name to add insult to injury, claiming ignorance. But his mother she knew better.  
  
She stalked through the main entrance, spying her second born standing on the balcony shooting blanks at clay disks. Her first born was not with him. It was obvious from the dreadful sound that what youth on the Citadel considered music today was blaring from his workshop where he was messing around with his ridiculous toys, inventions that never amounted to anything other than leaving oil stains all over the furniture. He was so much like his father.  
  
This couldn’t go on; her sons were not taking part in the greater plan of turian cause. It infuriated her; Pricia needed the support of her husband. She glided up the stairs to his top floor office and stormed in, baying for his blood. Pricia froze for a moment as her husband, who was on a call and managing several holo-screens at the same time, stopped mid-sentence and guided his eyes to look at her sideways, a smile creeping one side of his mandible. She loved that look; it boiled her blood...  
  
 _“Did it hurt?” said the blue marked stranger after smiling at her the exact same way Max was now. He had casually swaggered up to her after sweeping up two glasses of wine in each hand. He now offered one to her.  
  
“Did what hurt?” she replied, taking one of the glasses hesitantly. He stepped closer. She was almost the same height as him, and she had always been tall, scrawny and pale of colour due to her genetic disorder, the very depiction of ugliness. But here he stood, brazenly close to her and bent down to whisper in her ear.  
  
“When you fell from heaven?” he replied. His breath tickled her hide and made her gizzard do flips.  
  
She laughed, pushing the glass back into his hand, shaking her head and pressing her bare hand to her mouth. He must have taken a bet to come and hit on her with the cheesiest chat up line ever. She walked away from him..._  
  
Those blue markings were now replaced with proud Cato black and gold.  
  
“I have to go. It seems my wife requires me.” With a click at his ear, he sat down with sigh, his head rolling to the ceiling lazily as he fully reclined in his in chair. He was wary, she could tell. He had been pushing himself harder since the boys had come back from training; they both had so much to do and such little time. Max finally offered a hand for her to take.  
Pricia didn’t take it. She stood her ground and tilted her chin in her usual headstrong way.  
  
“Do you know where you’re sons are?” she enquired as he rolled his head in his cowl as he adjusted it.  
  
“Judging from the sound of gunfire, Vibus is shooting and judging from the sound of music and drilling, Tiberius has finally returned to his work.”  
  
Pricia snorted. “Work? Is that what you call it?” Tutting and sighing, she pressed her fingers to her forehead. “When they went away for national service, I thought they would come back changed. I sent away boys expecting men to return but-” she sighed again and sunk into a sofa. She was tired; her mind never stopped running through all the jobs she had left to do. Her sons were grown; it wouldn’t be long before one of them would take over. She wanted that more than anything, to see them happily married with offspring of their own and finally she and Maximus could retire and just enjoy each other...  
  
 _"I can’t retire. I’ve worked too hard for what I have.” His back was to her. A storm was brewing over the mountains; lightning flashed and a low rumble could be heard miles off._  
  
“Work? Is that what you call it?” she snorted. She stood on the boundary of room and balcony.  
  
“Pricia, that isn’t fair. You’ve always known what I have always been.”  
  
She tried everything not to stamp her foot in her rage. She wasn’t one for playing meek. She had always gotten her own way.  
  
“This isn’t fair. As for always knowing, that isn’t true either.” Pricia tried a light hearted smile, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was hunched over the balcony hands clenching the marble fencing.  
  
“We could always try something different,” she said approaching him slowly before resting a hand on his back. “You could always work for daddy; no one can deny you are talented.”  
  
“Everything has its own time and place, Pricia.”  
  
He repeated that line now. “Everything has its own time and place, Pricia.” Maximus got out of his chair and crossed the room in his usual confident strides before resting his arms on her bony shoulders. She was still tall and thin, even if motherhood had filled her out a bit more, but he loved her anyway. She sunk into his grip briefly, letting his thumbs rub away her cares till he started to toy with the broaches of her stola at her shoulders.  
  
“Max...” Pricia cooed as she caught a single strap on her bicep and pulled it back up to its rightful place. “We have a serious problem here. Vibus is twenty and Tiberius twenty-five but you would think both of them were no older than fifteen the way that they behave.”  
  
He sighed and released her, a playful wounded smile on his face. “Well, you can’t blame me for trying.” Maximus left her there and began to pace, his hand gripping his jaw. “What do you want me to do, snowflake?” He stopped to face her.  She loathed that pet name. It made her seem like something light and delicate. Pricia Cato was anything but! Maximus claimed it was because she was solely unique, but it was obvious that her unnatural colouring played a part.  
  
“Something, anything! I’ve always had to be the voice of discipline with our sons, but they seemed to inherit more than just your good looks. It seems you threw your complacency for the law in there as well.”  
  
Maximus smirked. He was always so composed nothing seemed to throw him. “You always know where to strike me hardest,” he said pressing his fist to his heart before sliding beside her and taking her hands. “Do you think it would benefit them to give them more responsibility, would that make you happy?”  
  
Pricia sighed, relieved she finally got what she wanted. “Greatly. Do you even know which of our sons will succeed you?”  
  
Maximus shrugged. He had this way of shrugging off important details, and it infuriated her. “It isn’t for me to say. The tradition in your family has always been the child who climbs highest in citizenship. I don’t see Vi getting any higher than grade 4; like you said my love, he got my complacency. But Ti, he has potential if we cultivate it.”  
  
She stroked the back of his hand while he spoke, taking in his word. He was right. Vibus was quite the clown--a good shot, but he refused to go to the army and make use of his skill. What Maximus called potential in Tiberius she called time wasting, constantly toying with bits of metal. The workshop back on Terra Prima was filled with half-finished projects of his ‘inventions.’ As much as Max joked that his son’s took after him, Pricia knew that Tiberius temperament was more her fault. It pained her to even think of her grave mistake.  
“Fine, if you think it will work. As long as it keeps him out of trouble; as much as Vibus acts the fool, he is not as rebellious as Tiberius.”  
  
Maximus laughed, it was deep and hearty and filled her heart with joy. He took her chin between his forefinger and thumb and drew her face closer to hers. “If I didn’t know you better, I would think you had favourites.” He pressed his forehead against hers for a brief moment, allowing her to cup either side of his head. She ran her fingers over deepening cracks in his plates, the tell-tale signs of aging. But they weren’t too old just yet; she could still gift him with one more child...She shook her head, dismissing the thought; she didn’t need the distraction of a child right now, especially since her sons seemed hell bent on self-destruction.  
  
“What are you shaking your head at?” Maximus asked her with a tilt of his head as he wrapped his arm around her waist and held her close for a moment; they didn’t share nearly enough intimacies like this.  
  
“Nothing, just a fleeting fancy. Now tell me, Max, your plans for this expedition. Please tell me you’ve taken my advice and found a different investor in a different mining company.”  
  
He let out a very tired grunt and released her, slouching back in the curve of the sofa. “Please Pricia, not this, not again. We have been over this. No mining company is as rich as Fibion’s -”  
  
She cut him short as her desperation and anger raised. “He hates our family and he’s a snake!”  
  
It was Maximus’ turn to cut her short this time with a raised palm. She flinched at the insult. “He is many things, but as a shrill business partner there is no other. He is a capable and very rich turian. I’m not having this conversation with you again. As your husband I put my foot down on this.” Pricia stood up smoothly, letting the fine weave of her dress fall over her legs. He never put his foot down. They were equals in this marriage, partners, and he was actually pulling rank on her. She wouldn’t stand for this.  
  
“As you say husband,” she said blandly with a gentle nod of her head before sweeping out the room. If Max wouldn’t put an end to this, then she certainly would...with or without him.


End file.
